


From Embers

by terracyte



Series: Loyalty Through Fire [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Zhao (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, get this kid a nap, he gets better though, like the entire fire nation is ready to throw hands, literally anything but the actual events of the show oop, local dumbass had no sense of self preservation, now featuring the entire palace staff, ready to confetti and ready to throw hands in zuko's honor, rebellion like crazy, thats right all of them, theres a scene where someone is whipped its not very graphic but please be warned, zuko bonding with his crew and them figuring out hes a literal child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25996555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracyte/pseuds/terracyte
Summary: Three years at sea, and unknowingly, Fire Prince Zuko had gained the respect and loyalty of the crew sailing with him.Three years away from home, and unknowingly, he had begun sowing the seeds of rebellion. A quiet rebellion of millions, waiting and watching, for their true lord to come home.This is what came before, and what comes after.------[And through it all, his nation and his crew would stand with him; from the flames of war to his frustrating refusal to justgo to bed.]
Relationships: Zuko & The Fire Nation (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar)
Series: Loyalty Through Fire [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812955
Comments: 151
Kudos: 1732
Collections: A:tla, Finished111, Our Adventures in Bending, avatar tingz





	1. ante-

**Author's Note:**

> hey there im back on my bullshit and here to offer you all 15k words (my friend nina helped me beta read and i love her very much for it)
> 
> really really a huge thank you to everyone who's commented on the other works in this series! (the warm fuzzies are unreal and my spirits are lifted) specifically i'd really like that say thank you to shutupurperfect because oh man they are just about the sweetest person and their comments have really fueled this word binge im offering. but really, this one's for you guys, all of you amazing people reading <3
> 
> the names of the Wani crew all belong to the lovely MuffinLance, and I hope you guys love em as much as I do! Enjoy the read everybody :)

It started with the 41st Division. 

Family members of young boys and close friends all murmured and traded worried whispers, and they sent letters to their sons and brothers with hands clasped in prayer. With the letters flew the tale of their young prince’s bravery, about a duel on a searing marble stage. It clashed with official reports of cowardice— of a boy refusing to fight— but that was all wrong. Murmurs grew and spread, carrying a single fact from the palace grounds in Caldera City.

And that fact would come not from the battlements, but the palace workers. 

The same workers who had served tea at a war council with shaking hands and flinched as a young boy stood up in defiance. The same workers who had draped a traditional Agni Kai banner on young shoulders in a blistering crowded arena. The same workers who had tended to an unconscious boy writhing in pain on a medical bed, smelling of burnt flesh and hair.

Aisu, a young woman who had been serving the royal family since she could walk, had not been the first to see the young prince after the duel. But when it came her turn, she treated him as if he were a babe, which he practically _was,_ and tenderly brushed singed black hair to the side as she shore off around his proud topknot. She had gazed at him with sad eyes, and while she dared not touch it, wondered if the angry bubbling patch beneath his left eye would ever catch flowing tears again.

His wound was cleaned and bandages replaced by another worker, an old tired man named Kaisho, and soon, the young prince would be out of the palace and transferred to the sickbay on a small rocky ship. 

The palace felt empty. Like young boyish laughter disappeared from long halls and harried quacks of confused turtleducks as they searched in vain for their only protector. 

The old and the weary, who had been in the palace since the young prince had been a babe, could only close their eyes and let silent tears flow as they watched the only spot of light in the darkness of the royal family be taken away. Since Lady Ursa had disappeared, the palace lost most of what little kindness there had been left.

The gardens, once so bright and full of life, were only ever tended to by the young prince who, by himself, had tried desperately to keep the plants and his turtleducks alive. He was quieter and had gained what little wisdom he needed to survive how quickly his father was pushing him to grow up. He also grew a bit of a temper, as was expected of a young boy with too many expectations on his shoulders, but still kept the soft kindness of his mother. 

There would be times a bright-eyed prince would offer one of his servants a handful of fire flakes from his own plate, and times when he would yell at a particularly admonishing minister wrongly scolding a trainee to tears. He was still just a child, but he had a quick wit, passionate lungs, and a tendency to love loudly and strongly. And the staff all adored him.

The prince truly became the only flickering candle of hope in the eyes of the palace workers, with a kindly respected general as the only other royal who seemed to agree. 

Then Prince Zuko had been sent away, and the Fire Lord — who had been watching and had grown bitter at the love his staff held towards his pitiful son — thought that he finally had the palace and crown in his grasp. But when he turned his back, so utterly underestimating of his own people, and expected them to bow, they all faced away and kneeled, hands clasped as they prayed for a young boy far from home. 

Because instead of snuffing out their hope, the prince’s willful and brave defiance in their name had only helped it burn brighter. 

And silently, they all thought to themselves,

_Now there is a boy I could call king._

\------

_What an absolute brat_ , Jee caught himself thinking, _I could hardly call him a prince._

Assigned to a small outdated and dingy ship was just about one of the last things Lieutenant Jee, formerly Major Jee of the 56th Battlement, had expected to find himself. He had never gotten a demotion before, but he supposed there could be worse ways to spend the rest of his military career. He had scarcely been told a thing before he received his orders to prepare to leave port the very next day at 1200 sharp, but he could do nothing other than nod and obey.

When he had heard that General Iroh was to be heading out along with them, he had supposed that perhaps his assignment would not be very bad after all. He had stood alongside the old general during the six-hundred day Siege of Ba Sing Se, and he knew that the other man was a person he could respect and trust. 

His nephew, however? Now, Jee wasn’t sure he could say the same about the prince.

The boy had a horrible temper, and he would often sulk and snap at the crew for small things. An incident with Kyo and a set of misplaced maps had made the poor man’s knees wobble like a newborn ostrich-horse, and the glares sent at especially auspicious men whispering about the bandages on the prince’s face had sent them scurrying away in a hurry. 

But he was still so strange. 

The prince, judging from his height, could not be older than fourteen, although Jee was still hard-pressed to believe it. The boy was loud, and he was a brat, as was expected from a preteen, but he was also sharp and very skilled in combat, despite his recent troubles with firebending. His katas, even cold, were performed with deadly accuracy and form, almost as if he had been drilled all his life. And his injury, one that impeded almost half his senses, was also something that Jee could only recall finding on old, war-hardened soldiers. 

Prince Zuko had been hurt before, but Jee didn’t want to even start guessing at how deep his scars ran. And judging from his attitude and the constant snarl on his face, the prince didn’t want help. Since he had been with them, he gave orders, trained, and commanded the _Wani_ with determination ever blazing in his eyes.

And with his temper and his standing, it was rather easy to forget the prince was just a boy. 

\------

The palace grew ever quieter, ever grayer. 

What used to be the hushed voices and murmurs of passing servants disappeared into nothing. It no longer became a courtesy for workers to be out of sight, but a necessity. Grudging loyalty to the crown grew into fear, and soon, it was uncommon to see any signs of royal gold outside Caldera at all. 

Fire Lord Ozai and Fire Princess Azula had no want to travel to the lower sectors, perfectly content with knowing it existed on the maps, supplying soldiers, weapons, and grain to fuel the expansion. They were only names, numbers on a page; not people, not citizens. 

Parents would hug their children tight, whispering fierce reminders that they needed to be careful and to listen and watch and show _respect_ , because Agni forbid the consequences. There was no more soft protector to be found in their prince, now banished to the seas. Those who were not truly loyal to the crown were made to stay in line through fear and the fact that there was no other option, no other place to seek work and no place outside the Fire Nation where they would not be scorned for their golden eyes. 

But there were always the outliers; the ones who had nothing left to lose and were not afraid to show defiance. 

It started small, in a single man. But it grew, ever so slowly. 

\------

There was a commotion in one of the hallways, and Lieutenant Jee found himself sighing at the silent obligation that he go dispel it, especially since it was near the personal quarters. He really did not want a repeat of the last time someone had managed to upset a certain prince with their shouting; you would have thought that they would have known better by now. 

But the two men bickering loudly in front of a closed door were in fact very real, and Jee felt a headache coming on when he just whose door he saw them in front of. 

“Look, why don’t you just do it!” one of them said hotly. “It’s not like you could be demoted any further down.”

“Neither could you, asshole!” the other shot back. “Just lay off, alright? Just make it quick and-”

“What is going on here?”

Jee tried not to relish the way the two crewmen immediately shut up and snapped to attention, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at them.

“Sir!” one said, “We were just-!”

“We were just doing what’s going to happen eventually, Lieutenant,” the other cut in. “You can’t think that we’re all just going to sit around and let a child command us.”

Jee lost any traces of amusement he might have been feeling and frowned. Were these two idiots suggesting a mutiny? _In front_ _of the door_ of the captain they were planning on overthrowing? 

But even as he pondered over the utter stupidity of the half-baked plan, he caught a glint of something metallic hooked on one of their belts. A very sharp and potentially stab-inducing pointy something. Agni, this _really_ was a situation Jee did not want to deal with right now. 

He stared down the two, distaste plain in his voice. 

“That _child_ is your captain and superior officer, private,” he said plainly, if not a bit cooly. “And to suggest mutiny is treason.”

The two crewmen stayed silent, but Jee wasn't just done yet. 

“You might not like your posts, but neither does he. You don’t have to like him, but if you are going to suggest attacking a child and _your own prince_ in the middle of the ocean just because you find your post tedious, then he’s got more honor than either of you.”

They were sweating now, Jee noted. Good.

He narrowed his eyes further and made a dismissive gesture with a tilt of his head. The two privates both performed a small stuttering bow and turned to leave, suitably chastised. But before they made it down the hall, Jee decided to hammer the final nail in the coffin they had made for themselves.

“And gentlemen?” he called. “Make sure you pack for our next stop at port. I hear Weihai is rather welcoming to _dismissed_ sailors.”

Jee didn’t bother looking after their retreating backs, instead sighing and turning back to head towards his own quarters. Agni, what a day. 

The next morning, Jee tried not to look surprised when the prince came up to him, arms crossed but expression not angry. Instead, he looked almost shy, perhaps avoiding eye contact and a pink hue on his cheeks as he addressed his lieutenant. 

“Prince Zuko,” Jee had greeted diligently. 

“Lieutenant,” Zuko said back, sounding a bit hesitant. “I just wanted to say— thank you.”

The older man despite having not spoken, fell quieter. He twitched. “Whatever for, sir?” 

At that, the prince seemed to lighten and dared a small smirk. 

“You weren’t that quiet, lieutenant.”

\------

In a courtyard made of cold stone, a guardsman was forced to his knees. 

Guardsman Shin, when made to stand before the throne, had refused to bow. It was decided that if this man’s inner fire did not obey the Fire Lord, then it needed to be extinguished.

“I will never bow to Ozai,” he had said plainly through gritted teeth. “I will never be loyal to a _monster._ His son is the only spark in that Agni forsaken royal family.”

And he knew the consequences would be grave, but he held his head high with blazing eyes of gold. Shin had been following orders all his life, but not once had he taken the time to question them. Now, he thought that perhaps he should start. 

He did not move, and he did not bow.

His act of rebellion was in part triggered by the sudden departure of the crown prince from the capital— from the Fire Nation itself. The other part, by the quiet creeping into the halls, the fear into his people, and the cold into the caldera.

So Shin growled, defiance shining in his eyes, and made his decision.

He found he did not mind if it would be his last.

_Do it_ , he taunted. _Do it, because you know it's true._

They did it. And Shin died with a triumphant smile on his face. 

_Cowards,_ the air seemed to whisper to his executioners _. The very thing you accused our dragon of being._

Cowards, all of them. 

[He was the first of many. 

The rest learned. 

All they needed to be was quieter.]

\------

Genji was making his morning rounds, and having just returned from the hawkery, was prepared to begin mucking out the stables of the komodo-rhino hold. But before he could close the steel doors behind him, he noticed a second person in the room, standing dangerously close to one of the pens. 

“Hey! You can’t just-!” The hawker abruptly cut himself off, almost biting his tongue in his haste to _shut up_ , as he turned the corner and caught sight of a familiar silhouette. That short stature and high ponytail couldn’t belong to anyone else. 

Prince Zuko pat the komodo-rhino’s snout, giving a small smile when a billow of warm air blew from her nose and into his face. Genji watched in a mixture of horror and amazement; in front of a komodo-rhino, you were either tolerated or dead, and the prince had actually had the balls to _pet_ one. Even he, who had come to practically adore the animals that had been thrust into his care, could hardly call himself cuddly. 

“You’re not so bad, are you?” Genji heard the prince say softly. He twitched at how small that voice sounded, how young. 

“You’re a good girl,” Zuko gave her nose another pat before shifting his hand to the rough nub where a long proud horn should have been. “You’ve been hurt before too.”

The komodo-rhino gave a low rumble, milky white eyes looking down at the young prince almost appraisingly. Suddenly, she turned over to stare at Genji, who had still been standing frozen behind a stack of hay bales. Zuko followed her line of sight and visibly stiffened. 

“...Prince Zuko,” Genji eventually acknowledged, gulping. “Magnolia isn’t giving you too much trouble, is she?”

Zuko softened his glare, if only a little, and turned away from the handler towards the hold. 

“Her name is Magnolia?”

“Yes, uh, it is, sir.”

“It suits her,” Zuko said thoughtfully. His hand returned to brush over the broken horn on her snout. “Perseverance.”

There was a silence then, and Genji didn’t really know what to say. He liked to consider himself a rather laid back and open guy, his main philosophy being burning bridges when he got to them. And normally, he would be arguing with his husband about how _of course it makes sense, Dekku, don't be such a spoilsport_ , but really, at the moment he was just trying to get over the fact that he had caught his own small angry superior officer making friends with one of the most dangerous animals the Fire Nation had to offer. This kid was just always full of surprises.

“Are they always kept down here?” Zuko suddenly asked then, a small frown on his face. 

“No, sir,” Genji replied, quickly recovering. “We take the komodo-rhinos on deck for exercise and sunlight every once in a while.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, eyes still flickering between the prince and the gentle way he handled the mounts. Prince Zuko seemed to have quite the soft spot for animals; just the other day, Genji could have sworn that he saw the boy cooing back at a returning messenger hawk. And correct him if he was wrong, but he saw no harm in letting this small angry child have a little piece of what happiness there was to be found on this ship. 

“Would you like to supervise the next time they are taken on deck, sir?”

Zuko looked up at him, a calculating expression on his face. But after a beat, Genji saw something soften in the prince’s eyes. 

“...Sure.”

\------

In the halls of a grim palace, workers were forced to move with quiet steps.

When they tended to war councils and served tea, they were quick and precise. When they tended to the Fire Lord's meals and saw to his needs, they worked with their heads bowed and voices obedient. When they tended to the halls, the laundry, and the repair, they did it with nothing short of perfection. 

They were silent.

But when the sky turned dark and the sun dipped, they would fill the streets on their leave and speak.

They spoke when they could only have whispered before. Into the night air behind closed doors or on the pages of weathered parchment. Letters flew to close friends and family on the front lines, to others living in the caldera who had been blind. 

Slowly word passed from mouth to mouth, and the 41st was no longer just part of a battle plan on parchment. From a single woman, who had been serving silent in the background of a war council, the plans for the division spread throughout the Fire Nation.

[No, no, that can’t be true.]

There was denial.

[Our own Fire Lord? No, he couldn’t have!]

Hurt.

[Those are our children! Our _people._ ]

Betrayal.

[We do not leave our people to die!]

Anger.

[We do _not._ ]

_Defiance._

\------

“Damn this piece of scrap!” Hanako hissed, unlatching another opening on the boiler. Wild flames spit back at her, but she didn’t even flinch. The engineer held up her finger and formed a blast of white hot flame at her fingertip, holding it to a sparking wire. 

She grunted as something in her wrist protested, her welding stuttering as sharp pain flicked up her hand. 

With a final glare she slammed the hatch shut, and sighed as she set down her tools. 

Suddenly, she heard the door to the engine room creak open, and she turned her head with a suspicious look. No one ever came down here, and really, what sort of sane person would want to? It took a certain kind of crazy to voluntarily sweat it out in the engine room, and at the moment, it seemed like she was the only one for the job.

“What do you want?” Hanako called. “If this is about the damn light in the bridge then I don’t wanna hear it-”

“Engineer,” came a stiff voice. Prince Zuko peered into the room, still half-hidden behind the steel door. “Is there a problem here? Uncle’s been complaining about the hot water.”

Hanako, now scowling but perhaps just a bit more composed, rolled her eyes. She hit the side of one of the boilers with her wrench, the metal clanging in the dark expanse of the engine room. 

“I’ve been working on it, sir,” she bit out. “Tell the general it will have to take a while.”

The prince nodded, and Hanako took it as a sign to get back to work. She turned back to the boiler, welder at her fingertips, but was struck again by a bite at her wrist. But nevertheless, she soldiered on, and went back to repairing the damn ship that kept trying to sputter and sink on them. She might as well have been the only damn thing that was keeping this piece of scrap still running. 

But when she turned to grab her wrench, she saw the prince still standing at the door, watching her. He looked pensive, like something was rattling around in that little head of his. _Royals,_ Hanako wanted to snort. She tried to ignore him, but that gaze was starting to burn into the side of her head.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Hanako tried to stop her eye from twitching in annoyance, but didn’t quite succeed. 

“...You’re injured.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“And?”

Zuko seemed to narrow his, looking maybe just a bit put off at the blatant dismissal and lack of respect in her tone. Regardless, he pushed on. 

“You shouldn’t be working if you’re injured. It’ll just get worse.”

The engineer snorted, tossing her short hair. Her soot-covered hands continued working. 

“And leave fixing this ship to who?” she asked. “If the general wants his hot water and you want this ship to keep running, I’m gonna have to stay right here.”

The prince fully stepped into the room then, closing the steel door behind him and crossing over to her. 

She stared at him, feigning indifference. Damn, they really were the same height. Small misgivings, but as long as that brat didn’t comment on it, she would keep her temper in check. 

“I can do it,” he said suddenly. 

Hanako blinked.

“You know how to, sir?” 

There was a silence, and Hanako almost wanted to laugh at the red blush that crept onto the prince’s face. He stared resolutely back at her though. The kid had determination, she would give him that. And it looked like maybe there was a hint of hard worker beneath all that royal pomp and posture. 

Because if the prince wanted to get his hands dirty and get a read on how much it took to _actually_ keep a ship afloat, Hanako would be more than happy to teach him.

She dug around her toolset and drew out a small torque wrench, a bit worn but still worthy, and held it out to Zuko with a raised brow, who gingerly took it. Hanako patted the side of the boiler with a hearty thump, smirking.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

\------

In the northern forests of Omashu, a battlement of soldiers were called to lay siege.

The 58th Division was filled with young men, far from idealistic but neither as mindlessly patriotic like their elders and commanders nor as naive as fresh recruits. They would hear whispers from other soldiers stationed in the colonies and ports, and they, unlike their commanders, would listen. 

They heard about the crown prince, banished for his cowardice and sent to chase a myth who had not been seen for nearly a century. Their commanders had taken the official reports and laughed, and thrust the declaration at them as if it would serve an example. Don’t be like him, look where cowardice and foolishness has landed your prince. 

But they knew. The real story, that was. 

[ _Defiance_.]

And on the sixth day of the siege advancing on Omashu, the 58th Division did not answer the call of the war horns. Their commanders blazed red in fury and shouted for them to obey, but they all refused to march.

Collectively, the 58th turned their backs and abandoned the Fire Nation. Their allegiance did not lie with the Fire Lord. 

Not this one. 

\------

“Um,” Dekku could make out the small form of the prince, caught frozen midway across the kitchen with a mug in his hands. Immediately after he realized he had been caught, Zuko straightened, although perhaps ducking his head just slightly as if in shame.

“Prince Zuko?” Dekku asked. “What are you doing up, sir?”

The boy seemed to bristle at that, clutching the mug just a bit closer to his chest defensively. His undershirt was just a little too big for him, and in the dim moonlit kitchens, it seemed to almost swamp his thin form. _Too skinny_ , Dekku found himself thinking. 

“I was just getting a drink.”

The chef raised an eyebrow at that, feeling every bit like an unimpressed parent who had caught their child sneaking sweets under their shirt. At least the prince had not tried to stuff the mug into his shirt. Agni knows how that might have turned out. 

“During the midnight watch, sir? I had assumed you started your day at dawn.”

Even in the poor light, Dekku could make out the red tint splattered across Prince Zuko’s cheeks, and he heard the boy mumble something. 

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear what you-?”

“I couldn’t sleep, okay?!”

If Dekku had a deathwish, he might have likened the expression on the prince’s face to a pout. A completely childish and sleepy pout. And maybe Dekku didn’t want to die today, but he thought it anyway. He was normally a very stern no-nonsense sort of person, but the sight before him made him want to act just a bit overbearingly, to swaddle up the boy in a cocoon of blankets and feed him until he had a little bit more meat on those bones. At this, Dekku could almost hear his husband’s teasing voice in his mind, saying _oh, I knew you were always a mother sheep-hen, dear_ , and Dekku resisted the urge to tell that Genji voice to shut up. 

But while Dekku thought to himself, the prince had only bristled more like a hissing pygmy-puma, raising imaginary hackles as he clutched the mug closer to his chest. But then all at once, he seemed to deflate, and Zuko stared resolutely at the ground instead. 

He started to make his way out of the kitchens, placing down his mug with a clack on the table. 

“Just forget it,” Zuko’s voice was small. “It’s not like I could heat it up anyway.”

Dekku was quiet, but just as the prince was about to leave, he spoke, reaching out for the mug.

“Wait,” the chef nodded at the boy, who had turned his head with dim eyes. “Here.”

Dekku’s palms slowly heated up, and he clasped his fingers around the mug, warming the porcelain sides and the milk inside it. His palms glowed with a soft light, lighting his fingertips a deep orange and pink. Zuko was staring, his eyes wide and questioning. Dekku gave a rueful smile; this was the extent of his own bending. Not battle-worthy, but still useful in the kitchen. Very practical too. 

As he handed back the mug, Dekku watched as the prince seemed to melt into the steaming mug of hot milk in his hands, taking a small sip before looking back up with a pointed expression. 

“...You didn’t use any flames.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The young prince’s face scrunched up, as if in thought.  
  


“How?”

Dekku blinked, before he settled with an expression that could almost be called soft, that is, if you were a liar and your name might have been Genji. 

“Would you like me to show you?”

\------

In the middle of a boiling lake, surrounded by walls of stone, a group of innocents bowed their heads in prayer. 

They weren’t felons, deserters, or even pickpockets. They did, however, know the truth.

Imprisoned for knowing too much, prodding too much, and caring too much. Their sons and brothers in the 41st Division never wrote back home, and they never received the reports filled with empty condolences. 

The boy who did receive them was far away, banished from Fire Nation waters to a creaking ship. But they knew who the boy was, and what he had done for them, so they grit their teeth and bore it. 

The injustice and the grief and the longing. 

Above all, they were Fire Nation, and as long as Agni shone, they would never forget a debt to be repaid.  
  


No one but the boy— their prince— who had burned for them, would have their loyalty.

\------

“Elbows in,” came the strict instruction. “Knees and shoulders apart and lower your stance.”

Zuko grunted, but complied, widening his stance. He started to run though his basic katas, arms and legs straining as he made his way through the forms. Teruko looked on with an approving nod. The young prince was very talented for his age, as much as she hated to admit it. Those forms would have taken other teens or even men many years to fully perfect, yet this thirteen year old boy was performing them flawlessly. It was quite impre-

“Argh!” The prince abruptly dropped his kata, just having finished one set but making no move to transition into the next. He was glaring down at the deck with his fists clenched and knuckles white, a scowl on his face.

“What’s the matter, sir?” Teruko asked, frowning. “Tired already? We’ve barely started.”

The scowl was very quickly turned towards her, and Teruko blinked in shock at the wet glisten in the prince’s right eye. What in the name of Agni-? But instead of gracing her with a reply, he only turned to stomp off further towards the stern of the ship, visibly distraught.

“Just leave me be, crewman!” Zuko snarled. “I’ll do my training _without_ your staring!”

Well then. 

What was up with him? Teruko frowned, eyes still on the fuming form of the prince, who was decidedly not looking at her and running straight back into his forms. Was this a teenage rebellion thing? 

But then she was struck with a reminder of a passing conversation with Jee in the mess hall. 

_That kid doesn’t know when to quit_ , the lieutenant had grumbled into his drink. _I swear he would run himself into the ground if General Iroh wasn’t there to stop him. It’s almost like nothing’s perfect enough for him._

Not perfect enough, huh? Teruko knew the feeling. Having to push harder, to do better. Because she knew first hand the humiliation and shame that came with not being enough and not doing enough, well enough… It must not be too different from what the young prince was feeling right now; without his fire and without his pride. 

Ah. His fire. His bending. It must be particularly scathing for an imperial bender to have lost his bending; to be afraid of it. Zuko was trying to regain his fire, but as she had seen for herself, it was slow progress. He was a prince — _a banished, disgraced, prince_ — without his flames.

He must not feel like enough.

“Sir,” she said. “May I recommend trying another set of kata?”

Zuko pointedly ignored her. 

“It is quite an advanced set,” she went on, making sure to keep her voice level. She couldn’t let the prince think she was pitying him. Then he would be off like a cornered pygmy-puma. “I haven’t managed to master it myself, but I hear that it is optimal when performed cold.”

He slowed in his movements then, listening. 

“Would you like to run through it?”

Zuko finished his current form, and straightened to face her. His shoulders were stiff, and his stance tense. Golden eyes burned into Teruko’s, but she didn’t flinch. 

“...Would you show me?”

Teruko gave a small quirk of her lips.

“Of course, sir.”

\------

In the Fire Nation, there was a people divided.

There would be palace servants on leave visiting “sick relatives” and never quite saying when they would return, families in the caldera that escaped to the outer islands, and soldiers that had turned their backs.

There would also be the loyalists; nobles and generals that benefitted from wartime and had no want for change, and lower class citizens, who had nothing but the blind faith in their lord that he would make the Fire Nation great and spread its wealth across the world. 

These were the people the messages did not reach.

But of the honest and the believers, they stayed and they waited.

They were scattered, all of them wanted men and women, in hiding at neutral ports or in refuge in the Earth Kingdom. They waited and watched, but their silent aid extended far beyond small harbors and towering walls. 

Because whenever a certain prince would pull into port for supplies, he would often leave with more than he would remember buying. And when he clenched his teeth at gossiping bystanders, there would be someone to draw the looks away. And when he seethed, angry and hurt, feeling alone, there would always be someone supporting him from afar.

Unknowingly, he had begun sowing the seeds of rebellion. A quiet rebellion of millions, waiting and watching, for their true lord to come home. 

\------

Kyo shuffled on his feet nervously, perhaps skirting the edge of where it was considered safe to stand near the ship’s railings. Typically, he would be the most sure footed person you could stick at the helm, but at the moment, he was busy trying not to set off the time bomb he was sure was ticking away inside the prince who was standing beside him peering into their telescope. 

The prince didn’t say anything, and just kept looking with a small frown on his face. 

“Helmsman,” he said suddenly, and Kyo tried not to flinch. “How many days are we from the nearest port?”

“It-It should be about two day’s ahead of us, sir,” he quickly replied. Kyo would know; he had been doing nothing but checking their course and making corrections for the better part of the morning. There were particularly nasty winds that kept trying to veer them off course, but the ship was running low on supplies, and Kyo needed to make sure that they made it to port before they ran out. 

But the frown stayed on Prince Zuko’s face, and Kyo tried not to sweat. The last thing he wanted was for the young prince to get worked up about their shifting course and subject him to another session of angry shouting. 

“Just make sure we stay on course.”

“Of course, sir.”

But the prince made no move to exit the helm and leave Kyo alone, and instead started to fidget almost imperceptibly, like he was trying to work up the courage to say something. Now that was almost as scary as when he was spitting mad and red in the face from anger, though Kyo had to admit that he would much rather prefer the red be the faint blush that covered the prince’s cheeks now. 

“...I just wanted to apologize, Helmsman Kyo,” came the sudden statement. Kyo blinked owlishly, but ducked his head nervously nonetheless. 

“What for, sir?” he dared. 

Zuko bit his lip and crossed his arms, like a defensive penguin-otter ducking its head shame. Kyo almost wanted to hit himself for making the comparison. Scary angry superior officer was _not_ a cuddly arctic creature. _Definitely_ no parallels there.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the missing maps,” the prince said slowly. “I might have...borrowed them.”

Well, that was allowed right? Superior officer and all that. Heck, prince even. 

“It’s fine, sir,” Kyo tried, not quite sure how to reply. “As long as they find their way back to the cabinets.”

Zuko gave a small wince, and Kyo did not want to think about what the boy might have done this time. Hopefully, those maps weren’t vital ones. 

“I also wanted to ask a favor.” Kyo felt a bit faint then. Agni, a _favor_? For the prince? Why did the spirits hate him? He was under obligation to agree, no matter how much he didn't want to. Such were the woes of being a captain's subordinate, and he could almost hear Kazuto laughing at him. 

“...Of course, sir.”

At the clear hesitation, the prince snapped up to look at him, and Kyo felt like maybe this was the end. It was a good run, but he might be going now. But there wasn’t any anger in those eyes, and instead just a small sad look that made Kyo almost mentally stumble. 

“You…” Zuko furrowed his brows, like he was trying to get himself mad but couldn’t. In fact, he just seemed small, and perhaps a bit defeated. “You don’t have to. I understand. I just wanted to ask to see if you would be able to teach me how to read them.”

He took a breath, and turned away. 

“Thank you for your time.” 

The prince began to walk out of the room, but Kyo snapped back to attention just as he was about to cross the threshold. 

“Wait!” he called, a sudden burst of courage pushing him. It might have been accompanied by a bite of shame, because even he could see that he had been rather rude to the prince. “The maps were the ones for the Eastern basin, right? I think I’ve marked up those quite a bit, so they’re hard to read.”

The prince was looking at him, his head turned but making no move towards where Kyo had fetched said maps and rolled them out onto the table. But Kyo didn’t think he was imagining the small hopeful glint in those golden eyes. 

“Would you like to learn how to read them, sir?”

Kyo saw the prince visibly light up, as much as that boy could, anyway, which was to say not very much. But he stood up straighter and gave a small nod, and the prince might have very well been outright beaming. Any nervousness Kyo might have held began to melt away, just the slightest, and he found himself rethinking the prince. 

Because really, he didn’t think he needed to be outright terrified of a boy who had bothered to apologize for a deed he could have easily justified with status, and was thoughtful enough to see his discomfort and back away. The prince seemed at the moment not unlike an awkward child trying to learn his way around his own ship, and Kyo felt himself wanting to help him. 

He smoothed out one of the maps, pointing to the various symbols and numbers dotting the borders.

“So, how good are you at math, sir?”

\------

Rebellion was stirring. 

They made sure that the whispers lingered for far longer and traveled much farther than the Fire Lord could have ever imagined. They might as well have shouted from the top of their lungs, and everyone from the Earth Kingdom to the Northern Water Tribe knew something about the banished Fire Nation Prince sailing the seas. 

A nation sat in waiting, listening. 

Because when a new Fire Lord came calling, they all knew who they would answer.

\------

Kazuto faltered, almost tripping over himself. Zhao continued to gaze at the man with thinly shrouded impatience, one brow raised, unimpressed. 

“Well?” he asked. “What will it be?” 

The man staggered and quickly snapped into a deep bow, 75 degrees, a slight tremble in his clasped hands. 

“Please, sir! I meant no disrespect. I will accept any punishment you see fit to give me for my transgression.”

Zhao scoffed, and walked closer, looming over the pikesman's bowed form. 

“That wasn’t one of the two options, crewman,” he growled. Kazuto’s trembling was more pronounced now. “If you are willing to pay for your mistake, you _will choose_.”

“What are you doing to my crewman, Zhao?” There came a sudden voice, raspy and unimpressed. Prince Zuko stepped towards the scene on the deck with an air of thinly veiled annoyance, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He walked to stand beside his pikesman, facing Zhao and glaring up at the taller man.

“Prince Zuko,” Zhao greeted, a plastic smile on his face. “How nice of it for you to finally come and greet me. I was beginning to think that perhaps something had happened.”

“No need to worry, Commander,” Zuko grit out. “All you need to worry about is what you are doing to a _member of my crew._ ”

“Your untrained crewman just nearly speared me in half with his wild swinging! I could have been injured quite severely, my Prince.” 

It was a damn shame he hadn’t, but Zuko kept that thought to himself. He did, however, note to perhaps encourage more training on deck whenever Zhao was onboard. Maybe someone would get in a lucky shot and burn off those abhorrent sideburns.

“But you weren’t. I don’t see how this is a problem.”

Zhao’s expression turned bitter in an instant, and he snarled down at the prince and the still bowed crewman beside him. 

“Have you never familiarized yourself with the rules of conduct, Prince Zuko? It’s no wonder your crew is running loose like a pack of deranged polar bear-dogs. Your crewman just assaulted a superior officer, and he had ought to be whipped or _demoted_ for it.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes. Beyond this dingy ship, there would be no place for a crewman to go. The _Wani_ was an outdated, barely functioning vessel carrying a laughably small crew and a banished prince on a search for a myth. This, as much as he hated to admit it, was rock bottom. If the crewman was demoted, he would practically be kicked out of the military and his only source of income. A demotion might as well have been a death sentence, for this man and any family he might have had at home.

And whipped… If Zuko could recall correctly, this crewman was the very same who always complained about an old back injury, and just a week prior, had been reluctantly granted a three-day leave after an encounter with a mongoose-lion had left him with an ugly gash. If he was whipped, any and all healing would be undone, and with the severity of the wound... It was a very real possibility that he could die.

Well then. 

Kazuto had stiffened, and his body trembled even harder than before. In a broken and resigned voice, he started to speak.

“...I will take the demot-”

“You will take the whipping, Pikesman Kazuto,” the prince’s words were hard, and his expression betrayed nothing. 

“S-sir?” 

Zuko doubled down on his glare, and Kazuto shrunk back at the intensity he saw in golden eyes.

“You. Will. Take. The. Whipping.”

“I never took you for a cruel captain, Prince Zuko. Perhaps your father did manage to get something through your thick skull.” 

Fierce golden eyes whipped towards the commander then, daring. Zhao raised his hands placatingly, a smirk still on his face. 

“No, no, you misunderstand, my prince,” the man said. “I was merely making an observation. Of course, it is in your power to decide your crewman’s punishment.”

His smirk turned wicked. 

“A public whipping, was it? Tomorrow at dawn will suffice. I expect you to be there.”

And even as the pompous man walked off, no doubt to bother the general, Zuko clenched his jaw. 

Oh, he would be. 

\------

Soon, the whole ship had learned of the incident that had occurred on deck, as well as the punishment that was to be dished out the next morning. Poor Kazuto was shaking like a leaf, but in terror or in betrayal, no one was certain. 

The crew all felt a pang of disgust, at the self-righteous jerk of a commander issuing such a harsh reprimand over an accident so trivial, but also at their own prince. What kind of cruel captain would forcibly make one of their crew take a whipping after they had made it clear that despite the consequences, would rather prefer a demotion? Whatever innocent, hurt child they had seen in him was overshadowed by the ruthless sentencing he had given today. 

Prince Zuko was brat, and now it looked like he was a cruel one too. Just like every other member of the royal family. 

They all glanced at him with distaste whenever he passed them in the halls, and the firebenders he trained with later that day did not hesitate to throw fire towards his face despite his obvious flinches and discomfort. Wherever he went, there was a quiet scathing glare burning a hole into the back of his head. 

Even the general gazed at his nephew with a quiet sadness, and the kindly old hands that poured cups of jasmine were tensed with disappointment. 

Zuko ignored all of it. 

\------

“Prince Zuko?” 

Kazuto looked up from where he had been staring resolutely at the ground, eyes wide. Zuko didn’t say a word. He wasn’t wearing his usual armor, and instead had only donned a casual set of training robes.

“Sit down, pikesman.”

Zhao sneered. “He can’t exactly be whipped while sitting down, Prince Zuko. What are you-”

“I will take his place.” 

There was a hush, and even Zhao himself seemed stricken. 

“...What?” 

“You heard me,” Zuko growled, already removing his top. “I, as captain of this ship, will take Pikesman Kazuto’s punishment in his place. It is within my power, and by accepting his punishment, his transgressions against any superior officer will be cleared and he will be pardoned.”

A thin red tunic was thrown aside onto the deck and Zuko walked up to the post, arms held outstretched and bracing.

“So,” he bit out. “ _Get on with it._ ”

\------

“...two...”

Iroh looked as if the very act of watching was causing him physical pain, but did not turn away. 

“...five...”

It was clear the prince had never experienced such a concentrated amount of pain for such a prolonged amount of time, and his pale back was quickly becoming bruised and bloody with every new crack of the whip.

“...nine...”

His entire body was as tense as a wire pulled tight, and his head was bowed, teeth and fists clenched as if for dear life. 

“...eleven...”

The look on Zuko’s face was by far the worst; flushed and screwed up in agony, his full cheeks running over with hot tears. 

“...fifteen...”

He looked every bit like a young tortured child, and looked seconds away from snapping with every crack of the whip.

“...eighteen...”

But not once did he cry out. 

“...twenty...”

\------

When his wrists were untied from the post, the boy slumped to the ground, out cold. But before he could fall, someone caught him, gathering his bloodied form with gentle hands. Angry red crisscrosses littered his back, and some portions of skin when lashes had struck twice had opened into deep gashes, blood dripping readily. 

Jee hurried towards the infirmary, not even having time to properly feel the utter disgust bubble up in his stomach at the sick grin on Zhao’s face, clutching the boy close to his chest. He didn’t care that his armor was being stained, nor that his hands were smeared with red or his fingernails crusted. He only cursed any etiquette that kept him from outright sprinting, and even at his harried pace couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the quickening drip drip of blood from his prince’s back.

They had shunned him and jumped to conclusions. This boy, their captain and their prince, had taken a lashing for them, for one of the lowest ranking men on the ship even when there was no reason for him to. 

Because why would a cruel prince care about a man dying from whipping injuries, much less know about pre-existing wounds that would put death on the table in the first place? Why would a cruel prince care if a crewmember was demoted off the ship, when he could very well just apply for a new transfer? It didn’t add up, and they were all starting to realize why.

Because Prince Zuko did care. And he cared _hard_. 

Even during the next weeks of his recovery, coming in and out of consciousness half dazed and weary, there would always be someone at his bedside, helping him drink water or coaxing a spoon to his lips. 

Iroh would almost always be there, and the old general had scarcely left his nephew’s side at all. There would always be a lit candle in the room, soft orange and yellow that grew and shrunk in time with the young prince’s labored breaths. The scent of jasmine, Zuko’s favorite, would always seem to linger in the air, and a full steaming tea cup would always be at his bedside. 

Jee would stand watch outside the prince’s room, though he would deny it if asked, because why would he have to stay on guard outside his own captain’s door on their own ship? But deep down, Jee thought that maybe, just maybe, that Zuko would wake soon and they could all rest easy knowing that no harm would come to the boy, or that if a certain commander ever showed his face that it would be with a pair of sideburns burnt off and perhaps a black eye to match. 

Hanako worked tirelessly in the engine room despite there not being anything to fix, and there would be a pile of loose tools that were just the right size for a young boy just learning the ropes, set aside neatly and well cared for, waiting for a certain prince to come back to use them.

Teruko practiced with the other combatants, drilling and making sure that she knew how to guide and how to teach, because if a certain prince would awaken yelling and full of life, she could finally teach him how to perform the kata he had been raving over.

Kyo poured over their maps, making sure each one was up to date and noted with helpful markers, because he wanted to know that the next time a certain prince came to him asking for their course, he would be prepared to tell him, and to show him where they were headed and teach him how to read the maps for himself.

Genji tended to the komodo-rhino holds and paid loving attention to all of their mounts, but also made sure that there was always a full supply of pear-berries, because he knew a certain prince loved to feed the komodo-rhinos midnight snacks, and was especially doting towards one particular mount with a broken horn.

Dekku cooked and prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner like he did every day, but on the side, he worked on creating a personal recipe for the perfect toasted and spicy fireflakes that he knew were a certain prince’s favorite, so that when he woke up, there would be a piece of home waiting for him.

Kazuto did nothing but drill his own spearmanship, pushing aside any and all the thoughts in his head that yelled at him to be afraid and stop, because he would not let another person, another _child—his own prince_ — be hurt for his mistakes. Because when that certain prince woke up, Kazuto would damn well make sure that he was enough to protect him.

\------

A few weeks later, when the prince finally got out of bed on his own, all spitting and indignant that _he was fine, Agni, Uncle you don’t have to help me with everything,_ there was a block of tension in the air so thick that it could be cut. Zuko would stop in the mess hall for breakfast, and the room would fall to silence. They all looked away, feeling guilty and ashamed, because they had acted so foolishly in the face of such a noble act from their captain. 

But Zuko only saw turned heads, and tried his best for a sneer, because of course they would still hate him, wouldn't even _look_ at him because he was just a careless child who had gotten himself another lovely set of permanent scars like an _idiot-_

But he looked up, eyes wide, when Chef Dekku set down a plate piled with hot crispy fireflakes, smelling exactly like he had remembered them during the last summer solstice celebration. Zuko gazed up at the man with apprehension, but still curious. Dekku gave a rare smile, inclining his head.

“It’s a new recipe, so tell me if it’s any good,” Dekku paused, looking thoughtful. He turned before Zuko could catch the fleeting ends of the soft expression on the chef’s face. “And it’s good to see you up, Prince Zuko.”

The prince blinked. He watched as Dekku disappeared into the kitchens before turning back to look at the fireflakes. 

Then, Teruko was standing next to him, her hands clasped behind her back and expression neutral. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, sir, I did find the scroll with the kata you’ve been talking about. Would you care to train with me later?”

Zuko, now completely bewildered but doing his damn best not to let it show, only nodded, the motion slow and jerky. Teruko, too, inclined her head and made her way out of the mess hall. 

Next came Genji.

“I think the komodo-rhinos miss you, sir. You should come down before Magnolia throws a fit.”

Then Hanako. 

“You’d better be around later. That busted engine isn’t going to fix itself!”

Then Kyo.

“I’ve been looking over the maps. Where would you like to head course for next, sir?”

Then Jee. 

“Make sure to keep up with your training, sir. You’re the closest thing to a good spar on this ship.”

Then, Kazuto.

“It’s good to have you back, Captain,” he said. Then, Kazuto lowered himself into a deep bow. “And _thank you_.”

And he would deny it, but Zuko felt the lightest he had ever been. 

The weeks passed and there was a notable shift in the air. Zuko relaxed just a bit more, stopped and listened just a bit more, and smiled just a bit more. In response, the crew started thinking just a bit more. 

And whatever decree had condemned their prince to sailing the seas might still officially stand, but collectively, the crew of the _Wani_ called into question the motivation and promptly burnt it to ash.

Because they knew Prince Zuko, and the last thing the boy could _ever_ be accused of was cowardice. 

\------

Time continued to march on, and the prince grew up. 

He fought, cried, loved, and lost, and his nation and his crew fought with him. 

\------

And when it was over, the sun rose on the dawn of a new Fire Lord. He stood proud and tall, facing the sun with his shadow falling behind him and melting into the orange-pink of Agni’s rays. 

An entire nation bowed their heads in respect and love, because now, they all knew with whom their loyalties lay.

  
  
  
  



	2. post-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibes kinda different but angst is still there dw

Agni, it had been a long day. 

...A long week. A long _year._

One could almost think that it was laughable that a boy who had bested a life-threatening burn to the most sensitive part of his face, almost gotten killed by an explosion on his own damn ship, and survived two lightning strikes after his life, would cow at a stack of papers.

But it was happening, and Zuko almost felt like crying in frustration. 

Reform and recovery was slow and he _knew that_ , possibly more than anyone , and he had been doing nothing but working to straighten the ties between the nations and repairing damage dealt by the Fire Nation during the war. He did nothing but read, write, and sign declarations, bills, and agreements, but some days it seemed like all of that was going absolutely nowhere. The hateful and passive-aggressive remarks from foreign dignitaries remained, and even parts of his own nation were crowing for his removal from the throne in favor of his father. 

It was almost like they didn’t want change! That they didn’t see that Zuko was trying as best as he could and maybe that wasn’t enough but he was _trying-_

...Zuko felt so tired.

He collapsed back into his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell his throbbing headache, and felt that fact wash over him suddenly like a tidal wave. Agni, he was just so damn tired.

And he couldn’t help but feel even smaller because of it. How could he be tired when there were still so many people out there suffering from his ancestors’ mistakes? From the aftereffects of a century-long war that _he_ had propagated? Those people had been suffering for so long, caught up in a petty war that had destroyed their very lives and culture. 

He’d seen it and it was _awful_.

Zuko could never forget the worn and broken people he had met in the Earth Kingdom; the starving, the angry, and the impoverished. They were all so broken, but they kept _going_ . And Zuko would eat his own robes before he would let himself hide behind _being tired_ when he could be doing more to help. Why should he keep those people waiting any longer— waiting on him to fix his mistakes?

So he ignored the way his hands trembled and the heavy tiredness weighing on his shoulders, and picked up another paper from the stack.

\------

“I’m worried about Zuko,” Kazuto was saying, a small frown on his face. “I haven’t seen the kid in almost two weeks.”

“He’s been busy,” was all Jee could offer. He hadn’t seen the teen either, despite being one of his most trusted guards. “I heard the Earth King’s been giving him a hard time this past month. Something about trade agreements.” 

Kazuto didn’t look appeased at the information, his brows furrowing further. The two guards passed by an open courtyard, under sloping roofs that dipped elegantly towards the central gardens. In the middle was the large oak that shadowed the turtleduck pond, its green leaves scattered across the ground. 

It was a lovely day, and by all means, a certain Fire Lord should have been out of his meetings and his chambers in the gardens. They all knew how much that kid loved to feed his turtleducks, or just watch them swim languidly in the water as he soaked up the afternoon sun. But there was no sign of the familiar red clothes he often chose to wear instead of the traditional robes, no sign of a golden crown placed on the pond edge, and no sign of gentle hands tossing pieces of bread into the water. 

No sign of Zuko.

Where on earth was that kid?

\------

His hand itched towards the open parchment and pen, but Zuko held himself back before he could do something foolish. Something like actually sitting down and pouring out his sad little stressed self onto a letter and sending it to Uncle where it would definitely make the poor man worry. And Zuko was selfish, but he wasn’t selfish enough to do that. Not to Uncle. 

So he merely heaved a sigh and put the materials away, shoving them next to another full plate of food he had forgone that evening in favor of more time reviewing new bills. 

Zuko had been making his people wait a century for someone with the power to finally do something, so he would _do_ it. There was no room for him to complain to his Uncle or his friends or his crew. They needed him to be strong, and Zuko would do his best to give that to them. 

He could get through this. He had to. 

\------

“Another one?” The head cook, a bold woman who was _definitely not getting up there in years yet you shut your mouth before your next plate is laced with spirit pepper_ named Kei, frowned down at yet another full plate of food one of the servants had brought back from the Fire Lord’s study. 

“Does our little lord not think our food is good enough for him?” She said annoyed, sighing at the meal gone to waste. She reluctantly scraped it into the trash.

“I don’t think that’s it, Kei. Every time I go in there that poor boy is up to his neck in scrolls. It's like he never sleeps or eats, I swear. But, he did say to give his apologies to the cook.”

“I don’t want an apology,” Kei frowned. “There aren’t apologies to the chef, just compliments when they actually _eat_ the food.” 

“You’ll have to tell the little lord himself then,” the servant said back. He was an older man named Jizhi, who had been serving in the palace for many years since Azulon’s rule as a personal attendant. Now acting as such for their current young liege, he could safely say that while he was relieved that the boy was nowhere near as cruel as his family, he was still very much worried about the supposed one-minded ambition Fire Lord Zuko had inherited instead. 

“But do add some of the rice noodles next time. I think I saw him eat a bit of those.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’ll eat more than _a little bit_.”

“Yeah?” Jizhi asked, a hint of genuine curiosity coloring his voice. After all, even the head chef couldn’t exactly force the Fire Lord to eat his meals, no matter how much they all wanted him to. “How are you going to do that?”

“I think I might invite Dekku for a chat.”

\------

There was a sound like breaking pottery.

This was mostly because there was currently pottery being broken on the cold marble floors of the meeting hall, shattering over the tile and spilling the hot tea inside onto the ground. But the main problem was the tea that had flown upwards, splashing onto the intricate robes of an Earth Kingdom dignitary who had been seated nearby.

As Feijin began to hastily clean up the shards of the broken teapot she had dropped on the ground, she felt a sense of mounting dread. The dignitary could have been mistaken for Fire Nation, if only the color of his robes were swapped with the fierce red of the mounting anger on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, your Majesty! I meant no disrespect, I will clean this up right away!”

Oh, did she mention that this was a meeting hall where the Fire Lord was present? 

...She really hoped that she wouldn’t be fired for this. Or banished, like her sisters had been by Princess Azula only a few months prior. But, as much hope as she wanted to place in her lord, she still couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that he could show such mercy. 

The Fire Lord opened his mouth, about to speak above her rapid apologies, but was cut off by the dignitary before he could.

“You—!” Feijin didn’t know faces could even be that color. “You _idiot_! Do you know how much these robes cost?!”

She did not know how much they cost, but wisely kept that to herself. She bowed her head towards him regardless, head ducked and eyes downcast. Feijin tried her best not to tremble. 

“I deeply apologise, sir, it was an accident. It will not happen again—”

_Smack._

Feijin’s head was turned fully to one side, her cheek stinging. Her words died in her throat, and she let her hair fall in front of her face, hiding the hot embarrassment and shame that surged to her cheeks.

“It will certainly not be happening again! You insolent girl! Didn’t they even teach you how to serve tea?! I had ought to have your head for this!”

Feijin ducked her head, waiting for the next blow. 

It didn’t come. 

She looked back up when she heard indignant shouting suddenly turn into heavy silence, and then a choked gasp. 

The dignitary was grunting in pain, and his hand, which had been raised in preparation for another hit, was caught in a vice grip by the Fire Lord. Her lord was standing, and despite the weary look he had been maintaining for most of the meeting, his face was now absolutely stone cold. Golden eyes burned, and for a split second, Feijin almost felt bad for the Earth Kingdom noble. 

“Minister Shu,” her lord’s voice was hard and sharp, like the edge of cut glass. _“_ You will _not_ raise your hand against one of my people.”

His grip tightened, until his knuckles and the minister’s wrist colored white. 

“My staff are under my protection and you will not hurt them, _am I clear_?”

The way he tilted his head and the edge of his voice made it clear that he was not just addressing the minister, lest anyone else in the room ever had the notion that they could treat one of his subjects that way.

Minister Shu gave a startled nod, his eyes wide like he had only just remembered the Fire Lord’s presence. He may be a child, but he was _powerful_ , in more ways than one. 

“Understood, your Majesty,” he choked out, albeit grudgingly. 

Fire Lord Zuko narrowed his eyes, expression cold. Then, he released his grip with a stiff nod and walked over to where Feijin still kneeled, where her hands dripped a slow red from where she had gripped porcelain shards too tightly. 

He gently helped her stand, ignoring the looks from the rest of the nobles in the room and from Feijin herself. She was a servant, who had made a mistake and he was the _Fire Lord_ , who was currently getting the hems of his robes wet from the cold tea still spilled on the floor. 

“I’m sorry I didn't stop him before he hit you,” her lord said softly. After his sudden bout of anger, he seemed to revert to his tired and composed self, and as Feijin looked at him— _and he was still shorter than her for Agni’s sake_ — she couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eye, and the weary look on his face. “Please, go get yourself taken care of and send someone else to clean this up.” 

“Of course, your Majesty.”

But before she went, he caught her arm, and in a low voice he said:

“And Feijin, please, if this happens with any other member of the staff, please let me know. I will take care of it.”

He looked so serious, but the young curves of his face made it look less like a grown man making threats, and more like a young teen swearing to do better, to try to protect what precious things he had under his care. Like their very own fierce and big-hearted dragon.

“I will, your Majesty.”

And then their dragon gave Feijin a small tired smile, and she knew for a fact what she would be telling the rest of the staff later that night. 

\------

By dawn, Fire Lord Zuko had the approval of every member of the kitchen and service staff. 

By the end of the week, the entire palace was ready to do everything in their power to protect their lord, just as he had promised to protect them.

\------

Jee was having a fairly uneventful patrol, making his way through his usual rounds and nodding to the occasional fellow guard he saw. It was horribly mundane, but Jee preferred it to be that way. Agni knows the alternatives wouldn't be pretty. But being a hardened military man as well as his general demeanor, Jee was prepared to deal with any situation at any time. 

Which is why he didn’t even bat an eye when a blur of red came scampering up to him and immediately sought refuge behind his back, clutching onto the seams of his armor. A suspiciously Fire Lord-shaped blur. But Jee had barely started to turn his head to confirm when an angry noble came stomping up to him. 

Jee kept a perfectly straight face, but stood a little taller to hide the smaller body behind his, crossing his arms behind his back. He looked down at the noble, inclining his head. 

“Sir,” he nodded.

The noble scowled, trying to step around Jee, who only shifted to block the attempt. He could feel a rustle of fabric tickle his bare arms, and narrowed his eyes despite the amusement that tried to bubble up in his chest.

So Jee only cocked an eyebrow at the noble, a frown pulling on his lips. “Is there an issue?”

“I know that blasted child you call a lord is hiding like a coward behind you!” 

To his credit, Jee didn’t even twitch. 

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are talking about, sir. The Fire Lord is in his chambers attending to diplomatic matters.”

The noble scowled harder. 

“You should be ashamed to call that brat a royal! All he does is run away and hide and find naive fools like you to protect him! He has no honor at all.” 

All amusement funneled out of Jee’s body in a split second, and he fought to urge to growl at the insolent red-faced rat of a noble still scowling up at him. That urge was getting harder and harder to fight when he felt Zuko tense up behind him, and he felt the teen instinctively press up closer to Jee’s back. 

“I would watch my tongue, _sir_ ,” he ground out. “We would not want any international disputes over a man inciting disrespect _to our lord_ , would we?” 

He fumed a little longer, but eventually turned up his nose and stomped away after it became clear that Jee wasn’t going to budge even an inch. The head guard watched as the noble left, resisting the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

When green robes had disappeared around a corner, Jee relaxed his clasped hands and nudged the body still behind him. Zuko poked his head out to look up at Jee, offering a small sheepish smile. “Thank you, Jee,” he said, clasping his hands together to stop them from fidgeting. “I, uh, appreciate your help.”

Jee only rolled his eyes and let out a huff along with the smile on his own face. “Just make sure it doesn’t become a habit, your Majesty.” 

Zuko nodded, eyes determined. Jee frowned at the dark bags under those eyes and the tired lilt in that voice. 

“It won’t be,” the Fire Lord promised. 

\------

  
  


He lied. 

  
  


\------

_“Shut up.”_

Hanako pointedly did not shut up, and continued to howl in laughter. Jee felt like maybe he wanted to melt into his boots and never come back out to survey another patrol. 

“You really are a walking meat shield, pfft hahaha!” 

Jee slumped down into his seat further, hiding behind his cup of oolong. It wasn’t as good as the brews the general had served them, and Jee grumbled at the fact that Iroh had caused him to reluctantly come to appreciate a good cup of tea. 

“You have become a bit of a pushover when it comes to Zuko, Jee,” Teruko added, smiling. She was normally above this sort of teasing, but it looked like she was feeling playful today. Lucky him.

“And only to the brat, okay?” Jee grumped, taking another sip. There was a sudden silence, and he looked up in surprise, as if he had only just processed what he had said. He turned to his fellow guards and year-long friends with a grimace and abruptly stood up, slipping back on his gloves. 

“Looks like it's time for my next patrol," he said, turning away. "... And don’t tell him I said that.”

"My lips are sealed, captain," Teruko didn't even bother trying to hide the amused grin on her face. 

"Mine aren't!" Hanako cackled. 

Jee sighed, already halfway out of the kitchen entry, and walked off to the sound of Hanako's loud laughter and Teruko's giggling. Ungrateful, the lot of them.

\------

“He’s just a boy!” one said loudly, waving his mug in the air. “I bet he wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling a nation! I mean have you seen the way he conducts himself around the servants? Agni save us all, he’ll be blundering around until he finally figures out he’s not cut out for the job.”

There were nods from others in the crowded tavern, much to Chit Sang’s disconcertion. The beginnings of anger stirred in his chest at the man’s words, and he frowned into his own cup.

They didn’t know what they were talking about. Chit Sang had never seen someone who had given up so much and worked as hard as Fire Lord Zuko. That kid had been fighting for his nation since he was just thirteen, and it made Chit Sang’s blood boil at the sound of those from the very nation Zuko had been standing up for, been burning for, to discredit him. 

If there was one thing Zuko was, it was competent. And on top of it, he was persistent. That kid gave things one hundred percent and worked harder than anyone else. 

Chit Sang might have been in the tavern on his weekly leave, but he never really considered himself off the job. It was his duty and his privilege to look after and protect his lord, and after all Zuko had done, Chit Sang wouldn’t stand for some stuck up drunkard to spout baseless accusations. 

He got up and walked over to where the man was still rambling, and stared down at him, unimpressed.

"Is there an issue here?"

“And what concern is it to you?" The man sneered up at him, the slight slur in his voice indicating that he had one too many drinks already. Liquid courage would often make people cross the line into foolishness.

“As a part of the Fire Lord’s personal guard?” Chit Sang asked, raising an eyebrow. “It is _absolutely_ my concern.”

“One of his loyal dogs, eh? Let’s hear you beg, then. How’s it feel serving a _child_?”

Chit Sang clenched his fists, sorely tempted to do something that he definitely, unfortunately, couldn’t do. His time at the Boiling Rock had ingrained in him exactly one way to deal with imbeciles, but he liked to think that he wasn’t one to resort to baseless violence anymore. But if this punk kept talking, Chit Sang would start _gaining_ some basis. 

“You had best watch your mouth,” he grit out instead. “We don’t want anyone to do anything they might regret.”

The man laughed. “Regrets? You starting to get some, guard man? I can’t think of a more pitiful job than yours.”

Oh, that was _it_. 

Chit Sang growled, closing his eyes. His knuckles grew white with how hard he was clenching his hands. 

But then the sudden scrape of a chair against hardwood floors broke the tense silence, and he looked up in time to see a woman get up from her seat, looking just as angry as he felt. She walked over to them, her shoulders pulled tight and forced grin bracing. 

“Hey there, can’t help but have overheard you boys talking,” she said, shooting the man a tight-lipped smile. “What’s this about the Fire Lord?”

“Just the _truth_ . We all know it's a miracle that boy hasn’t been dethroned yet. What does a disgrace know about running a nation? He’s nothing but a spoiled _child_ playing king while _we_ all do the hard work.”

The woman’s eye twitched.

It struck Chit Sang then that he recognized her; she was one of the handlers at the royal hawkery. She would be tending to the birds and handing off letters in the mornings, and fed and bathed the komodo rhinos before they went off to pull their carriages. It wouldn’t be uncommon for her to catch their lord babying the messenger hawks or visiting that old komodo rhino with a broken horn that he seemed to love so much. She always dealt with sharp talons and hard hides, but unlike anyone else, she never wore gloves. 

When Chit Sang stepped forwards, ready to deal with the man, she stopped him.

“Sorry, but let me handle this. We can’t have a member of the royal guard getting in trouble.”

“Oh, yeah? In trouble for what?”

She grinned, pulling her fist back. The rough calluses on her knuckles flashed a worn white.

“For punching a civilian for being an ungrateful _moron_.”

\------

“A fist fight? Over _what_?”

“Don’t worry about it, your Majesty.”

\------

“Teruko,” Zuko looked up from the littering of scrolls on his desk, and Teruko contained a wince at the poor state of her Fire Lord. The sleeves of his robes had smears of ink from where they had scraped against the open inkstone, and strands of hair had escaped from his topknot, falling to his forehead. 

“My lord,” Teruko said respectfully.

“What do you need?” Zuko asked, subtly stretching his arms in front of him, looking halfway relieved at the interruption. 

She gave him another once over, and despite herself, had to resist the urge to lay her hands on his shoulders and force them to relax or to use them to steer him straight into bed or the baths. 

“Sir,” Teruko started, a frown on her face. Agni, just _look_ at the state the kid was in. “When was the last time you slept?”

Zuko blinked up at her, like he hadn’t quite heard what she had said. That, or that he heard and didn’t think he heard right. 

“I was just up looking over these proposals. I’ll get some sleep soon.”

Teruko, if possible, frowned even harder. 

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

At that, the Fire Lord seemed to visibly slump in his seat, from defeat or his tiredness finally catching up to him, she couldn’t tell. He looked down at his fidgeting hands, and mumbled something. 

“Please, kid, when was the last time you slept? Bathed? Ate?”

“Um, I don’t … really remember? I ate something yesterday though, and sorry, I’ll take a bath just after this last one—”

But before he could reach for the said parchment, he found himself turned around in his chair and gripped by his shoulders and pulled to his feet. Teruko’s expression was steely, but her eyes were a warm concerned brown. She looked down at him with a frown and seemed to come to a decision. 

“Kid, I think we need to have a talk.” 

Zuko’s eyes widened, and he tried to shake off her hold. But given his halfheartedness and the physical exhaustion weighing him down, she held strong. Teruko narrowed her eyes. 

“We’re all worried about you. We knew it was getting bad, but not _this_ bad.”

The teen found himself being steered out the door of his study, towards the kitchens. Despite his continued lackluster protests, he eventually shrunk and backed down within the time it took to reach the doors. As they walked, he couldn’t help but droop. He hadn’t seen Teruko look so upset in a long time, and the hint of unnamed emotion in her voice, which he could only connect with anger, _oh Agni what if she was angry? He was sorry, he was, he didn’t want to upset her—_ coupled with his exhaustion addled brain made hot shame creep across his cheeks.

And she had said “we.” He had made other people worry? Zuko shrunk down further, ears burning. He didn’t want that, not at all. Of course he couldn’t even do this right, he always made people worry, he made them sad, and he made them angry-

When they reached the kitchens, he saw a small cluster of people gathered around one of the tables. Familiar faces, who should all have been sleeping or off doing something, _anything,_ more worth their time, were there waiting for him. 

His crew. 

Zuko gulped and tried his hardest to melt into the floor.

\-----

No one spoke for a long moment, all of them waiting. They knew not to push him nor did they want to. The kid was already stressed out of his mind, and the last thing they wanted was to pile on more. So they waited, and the cups of oolong sitting on the counter continued to waft steam.

Zuko was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, pointedly trying not to look anyone in the eye. Then, he spoke. As predicted, what he said didn’t make them very happy.

“I’m...sorry. That I haven’t been doing that well lately. I just...I didn’t want to be, you know, like I was before. Not a—a disappointment.”

Teruko was watching him with a blank expression, trying desperately not to show any hint of her horror or sadness in fear that Zuko, the little idiot, might think that it was aimed towards him. But by Agni, it was not towards him. It was _for_ him. 

The room was deathly silent. Zuko thought he heard someone make a pained noise. 

“I’m trying harder now!” He went on. “I know it’s not enough, and I know I should do better but I’m uh, I’m trying— really.”

There could have been the entire script of _Love Amongst the Dragons_ embroidered onto Zuko’s sleeve, with how intensely he was studying it. 

“So I uh, I know I’ve been worrying you guys a lot lately. I’m sorry. But I’ll fix it and I’ll do better—”

“ _Zuko_.”

He snapped up to look at Jee, who had called his name. His actual name; not lord, not sir, not even “brat” like they had all become so fond of using. 

“Permission to speak freely?” 

Zuko had almost forgotten the rest of the room, what with Teruko practically burning a hole into his head with her intense gaze and hazel eyes that just looked so _sad_ , why were they sad? 

But nonetheless, he looked over at his guard, and his voice was very small when he rasped out “granted.”

“Get some sleep. And take a shower and drink water and _eat._ ” Jee looked almost pained himself, expression tired and sad, and Agni why was all that Zuko did was make people _sad_? “Stop killing yourself, kid. You need to start caring more.”

Zuko snapped his head upwards then, eyes wide and already protesting. “I do care! I swear I’m trying, I’ll do better-!”

He tried not to flinch when Jee placed a firm hand on his shoulder, breaking probably dozens of formal protocols, both unspoken and written, but neither of them caring. 

“About _yourself_ , Zuko.” 

And then Jee sighed, resisting the building urge to rub at the bridge of his nose to stave off the absolutely killer headache that this stubborn kid was insisting on encouraging. What he wouldn’t give for Zuko to be just a _little_ less self-sacrificing.

“...Oh.”

The Fire Lord looked nothing short of small, from his voice to his stance. From his mussed hair to his rumpled robes and the layers of dark bags under his good eye, he looked just... _tired._ Jee gave the kid’s shoulder another comforting squeeze. 

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ “

Zuko lifted his head and looked around at the small group who were still gathered around in the kitchens, at almost two in the morning just to talk with him. He felt a warmth spread pleasantly in his chest, a lot like the good cup of hot jasmine tea enjoyed with Uncle the last time they had seen each other. 

“We care about you, kid. So much,” Genji said, a small lop-sided smile on his face. He reached out to lay a hand on his husband’s shoulder, who was still looking a bit peeved. “And I know Dekku does too, even if he’s still a bit angry about you basically starving yourself.”

“Of course I care,” the chef deadpanned. But despite his crossed arms and furrowed brow, Zuko could tell that he really did mean it. But that didn’t stop the teen from gulping when Dekku narrowed his eyes at him, gaze steady. “And don’t forget that, okay? So you won’t be _missing any more meals_.”

Zuko gave a weak nod and shared a look with Kyo, who was giving him the head tilt of sympathy. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t appreciated.

“And I know you’ve been complaining about sleeping,” Kazuto said, offering his own chastisement over the rush of guilt and hurt he had felt only moments prior. He’d only be sad that their little lord hadn’t felt comfortable with coming to them with his troubles sooner. “Bed’s too soft, right?”

“Uh...yeah, actually.”

“Don’t look so surprised, kid. We all get it. It's hard to make the adjustment from sleeping on metal slabs or the ground to luxury beds.” 

It just didn’t sit right with them; when after so long, the feeling of cold hard ground at their backs was what screamed “safe.” It had been near impossible for Kazuto to get a wink, and he was sure that it had been much the same for the rest of the crew. But he had them and he had time to relax and readjust. Zuko, however, clearly hadn’t.

“I’ll get your mattress replaced with something more sturdy. So you can actually _sleep_ for once you stubborn ass.”

Beside him, Kyo muffled a laugh at the insult; it was surprising, but very welcome, how much Zuko let them all bully him around. 

The teen nodded, smiling a bit now despite the teasing. 

“But kid?” Hanako suddenly called, her voice light. She gave a pleasant smile, and all at once, Zuko felt cold sweat and a deep apprehension in his chest. Hanako _never_ smiled like that. 

“If we catch you not taking care of yourself, you’ll have to answer to _me_. And you know what happens when someone hurts our kid, right?”

And even as he went to open his mouth to object that _that didn’t even make sense, how could she come after him for hurting_ himself _—?,_ he wisely closed his mouth and hesitantly nodded instead. Agni, he could almost imagine her twirling her gaudy knife between her fingers even now. 

“Very good,” she smirked, ruffling his hair. 

The sky was still dark, but there were hints of pink and purple on the horizon line from beyond the large glass panes peering outside from the kitchens. It was nice, like twilight long after it had passed. It reminded him of the lulls during his time on the _Wani_ , when he woke up earlier than his troubles could catch him, and it was nothing but him and the calming shades of pastel sky.

And surrounded by his guard, his crew, his _family_ — Zuko felt more relaxed and content than he had in a very long time. 

Then, Teruko straightened, and she gave him a small grin before placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Off to bed then!” She said, steering him in the direction of his room. He willingly went, and smiled softly at the mix of “goodnight!”, “sleep well, brat”, and “don’t let the bed-shrews bite!” that followed them out the door. 

“Come on, kid, march!”

\------

Of all the changes he had made after his instatement as the Fire Lord, he would say that his choice in the palace guard was among one of the things he had done right. The Kyoshi Warriors were all very skilled and diligent fighters, and they even often helped with other non-guard related matters. Agni knew the cultural dignitaries, as well as many of his own staff, adored those girls. Suki was also a welcome friend to have around, offering her input and generally being a great person. 

His crew, after what was _definitely not_ a tearful reunion, were made his honor guard. Some of them had decided to stick to areas closer to their previous professions, and Zuko would often find himself sharing a cup of hot tea or milk with Dekku in the kitchens, or making conversation with Genji in the gardens. But of the crewmen who had decided to actively make rounds around the premise or accompany him to areas outside the palace, there was Jee, Teruko, Kazuto, and Hanako. But regardless of their posts, it seemed like the former _Wani_ crew would all find some way to come annoy and poke at him. 

And Zuko definitely did not appreciate these attempts _of course not why would you think that_ , which is why he definitely did not brighten when he looked up to find Kyo idling near the fountains. 

Zuko walked over to his current palace gardener, giving a small smile that curved his good eye into a warm crescent. He rubbed at his hair, still damp from his morning kata and meditation, with a towel and draped it around his neck. 

Kyo looked up, placing down the trimmed flowers he had been holding onto the fountain edge, offering an easy smile as well.

“My lord,” he said half-jokingly, knowing how much Zuko didn’t care for titles but choosing to use the proper etiquette anyway. 

Zuko, predictably, rolled his eyes, lips quirking. 

“Good morning, Kyo,” he said. He titled his head to look towards the sky, where the sun was still creeping along the edges of the horizon. “ You're up early today.”

“Oh, well you know it's never too early to trim the bushes. Gets them before they can wake up.”

“Sure it is,” Zuko said, holding back a chuckle. His smile turned mischievous when he saw the roses at Kyo’s side, carefully trimmed and dethroned like a gift. “Those are some nice flowers, Kyo. I’m sure Kazuto will love them.”

Kyo sputtered, embarrassment flushing his face. He gingerly picked up one of the pink roses and scratched at his cheek, turning it over in his hand. “Is it that obvious?”

“I have eyes,” Zuko laughed. His smile grew warm, and he gave a pat to his former helmsman’s shoulder. “Really, good luck, I think you’re not very far off with Kazuto. We both know pink is his favorite color.”

“I have eyes too, brat,” Kyo said jokingly, gathering up the rest of the roses. His smile was grateful, and Zuko found himself feeling a tender happiness at the peace he saw in the other man’s expression. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With that, and a rough hand ruffling Zuko’s hair, Kyo was off to find a vase, his courage, and start his morning. Zuko watched as he went, huffing at his messed up locks but still smiling, and made his way towards the turtleduck pond. 

He’d say hello to the kitchen staff when he went to get bread later. 

\------

When Feijin next served Fire Lord Zuko tea, it was delayed by the low murmur of conversation behind screen doors. He and Prince Iroh are sitting on the patio, a game of pai sho between them. 

But before she could even reach for the door handles, she heard the low words from her lord. 

“I don’t know if I’m doing this right, Uncle. I’m trying but I don’t think it’s enough—if it’ll ever be enough.”

There was a break in conversation, and Prince Iroh was likely giving his nephew an encouraging look, so that he may spill the rest of his troubles. 

“I don’t even know if the palace staff like me. What if they don’t want an inexperienced child on the throne? They deserve better, Uncle, I know they do. They deserve better than me.”

Feijin’s grip on the tea tray tightened, and the steaming cups balanced on it threatened to rattle with the force. 

What. On. Earth. Was. He. _Talking. About._

That evening’s gossip session was particularly uproar inducing, and any other Fire Lord might have been worried about uproar being about them. Of course, this was not to say that Zuko should not be worried; it was just in a way that he would never expect.

\------

By dawn, the palace was alight with the firm consensus on their new goal regarding Fire Lord Zuko.

A small part of the staff, who had known him the longest and had had to deal with his bull-headedness when he was still just a tween, only shook their heads and sighed. 

Because Zuko was an absolute idiot, but he was _their_ idiot. 

And they, _all of them_ (that’s right, _the entire palace_ ), would make him realize it. 

...They would love Zuko to death if it was the last thing they did.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the outline: (the entire staff ready to throw hands for their fire lord. talk shit about him and you die.)
> 
> me, ten days after it was written: aight time to have a staff member punch someone in the face in defense of zuko’s honor itll be funny

**Author's Note:**

> the feedback for this series is insane and everyone is so very wholesome and nice :"))) so i hope this was up to standards!
> 
> actually, this is part two of what I consider to be the "main story" of this series (rise from ashes is the first), and the next and last part is underway, but that's not to say I won't write other fics that fit into this verse too! 
> 
> thanks so much for reading and please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought!
> 
> you can find me over on tumblr [@terracyte](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/terracyte) if you'd like :)


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